


I Fell In Your Arms Tonight

by Immortal_Enby_Archivist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: "Martin has been acting really nice to me... he's up to something", Angst but only like if you squint, Briefly one sided Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Fluff, Jon is severely sleep deprived, Jonathan Sims go to sleep challenge, M/M, Martin is a blessing and we're all happy he's around, No beta we get brutally pipe murdered like Jurgen Leitner, S2 canon-typical Jon paranoia™, Set somewhere during s2 apart from the ending which is set in s5, Strong Martin Blackwood rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immortal_Enby_Archivist/pseuds/Immortal_Enby_Archivist
Summary: Jon is extremely sleep deprived, and his body decides to shut down on him while he's at work. Luckily, one of his archival assistants finds him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 143





	I Fell In Your Arms Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet lil fluff fic. CW for paranoia and sleep deprivation. S5 spoilers at the end.  
> (Yes, the title is a Mother Mother reference, my only crime is being nonbinary)

Jonathan Sims hadn't slept in weeks.

Or rather, he _had_ slept, but never more than four hours. He was too busy trying to piece together who exactly was conspiring against him. He would stay up until the Sun shone on the scribbled papers and stolen photographs strewn all over his desk, and he realised he had spent yet another night writing and crossing out every theory and remark on his mind. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever, and he had to pretend not to notice the concerned stares of strangers on the Tube.

He didn't even say hello to his assistants anymore: he just went straight to recording his statements and the occasional supplementals. Every contact he initiated was strictly professional. You never know who wants to exploit your weaknesses. 

He found it particularly hard to focus on the documents long enough to decide which statement to read that day. It had become increasingly difficult over the weeks, but he dismissed its effects on his performance. As long as he was doing his job properly, he didn't need to be particularly concerned about his health. He cleared his voice and turned the tape recorder on.

"Statement of Alex Brown, regarding a farm they visited in their youth. Original statement given December 3rd, 2009. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins."

As he began narrating the statement, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and the time during which his eyes were closed became longer and longer. He barely had the time to wish that Martin would barge in with his stupid tea (he could really use the caffeine boost), before he collapsed off the chair and onto the floor.

When he woke up, his head was resting on something soft that smelled vaguely of vanilla, and there was something similar to a blanket on his body. He was in a different room than the one he had fallen asleep in. Still groggy, he brought a hand to his face, only to realise that his glasses were off.

"Oh, you're awake."

It took him a full second to recognise that voice. He slowly sat up, looking at the man kneeling next to him.

"Martin. I-" He looked down and saw that the blanket over him was Martin's coat. He turned around and, sure enough, Martin's jumper had been folded into a makeshift pillow. "How long have I been asleep?"

Maybe he had been drugged. His suspicions fell immediately on Martin, and it took him a while to remember that his assistant didn't bring him any tea that day. No one gave him anything to eat. Some sort of gas, perhaps?

"Nine hours straight."

Jon did the maths. "It's 8 pm?"

"8:30, to be precise."

Well, that was inconvenient. He scolded himself for losing an entire day of work because of a stupid _nap_ , and lifted his hand to push his glasses on his nose bridge, before remembering he wasn't wearing any.

"Oh, wait." Martin reached towards the table and picked up Jon's glasses, handing them to him.

"Why are you still here?" He had considered not asking him that, in case his assistant would grow suspicious of him. How much did Martin think Jon knew?

Martin stammered, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the floor. "I- Well- Um- I asked Elias if I could stay past closing time, so that you wouldn't... you know... wake up alone."

That was a weak excuse. Was Jon supposed to believe that Martin cared so much about him as to watch over him while he slept? But why hadn't Martin struck while he had the chance? Jon had been unconscious for nine hours, surely his assistant had the time to dispose of him.

No, that was absurd. The risk of someone finding out what he was planning to do were too high, and even Martin wasn't that stupid. Then again...

Jon was ripped from his conjectures by a nervous chuckle.

"I had brought you tea, but I guess it must be cold now. Probably has been for a while."

"Don't you have something better to do?"

Jon couldn't quite place the expression on Martin's face. Embarrassment? Shame? Sadness?

"Not- not really. But even if I had, I wasn't going to just leave you lying on the ground and waking up to an empty building."

At this point, the Archivist had to address the elephant in the room. "Why aren't I in my office?"

Martin flushed, his freckles standing out against hot red skin. Eye contact wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "W-well, I saw you lying on the floor like that and I was afraid of Tim finding you because you would have never heard the end of it and I thought that was the last thing either of you needed and-"

"Martin."

He flinched. "Yes, Jon?"

Jon hesitated. "... Thank you."

Martin looked confused, like someone who was expecting a slap and got a hug instead. "O-oh, um, you're welcome."

They both remained there for a while: Jon sitting up, lost in his theories, while Martin knelt next to him, staring at the floor. Finally, the latter spoke up. "Did you-" He stopped mid sentence and rephrased it. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I believe that is none of your business." Jon replied, his tone cold and harsh. Martin did receive a slap, after all.

"I won't apologise for caring about you, Jon." The Archivist wasn't used to Martin standing his ground like that: he averted his gaze, feeling embarrassment creeping in. "Now, would you please go home and get the next day off?"

Maybe he was trying to keep him away from work, but for what reason? He was being too nice, there was certainly something behind it. Still, his assistant expected an answer. "I... I suppose I could do that."

Martin's expression softened. "Good. Thank you. Do you need any more help or-" 

"No, Martin, I can handle it." Jon finally got up, picking up his assistant's coat and jumper, and awkwardly handing them to him. "Well, I guess I'll be off."

"Um, alright. Take care!" He shouted just as the Archivist left the room, to collect his stuff and his thoughts. 

§§§

A lifetime later, Jon was lying down in the Scottish woods, his head resting on Martin's lap: his eyes were closed as his boyfriend gently stroked his hair.  
It was so rare for them to have a moment of quiet intimacy these days: they didn't need to sleep nor eat, and Jon seemed very keen on travelling as much as they could. Martin had put his foot down, insisting on taking a break, "for our mental health's sake. Please?", and Jon couldn't tell him no. He already felt guilty about having to stop at every domain for those stupid statements.

"Jon?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you... Do you remember that time you fell asleep in the Archives?"

Jon groaned. "All too well."

Martin laughed. "I was just thinking about it because you look so peaceful when you close your eyes, and that was the first time I had seen you so tranquil since... Well, ever."

Admittedly, it hadn't been the best time in Jon's life. "Oh, I can believe that." He basked for a few seconds more in the peace of that moment, with his boyfriend gently braiding his hair, before he sheepishly admitted: "At first I thought you had drugged me."

Martin's hands stopped abruptly and Jon's eyes snapped open. "... did... did you really believe that?"

"No!" He protested, but caved in under Martin's skeptical glance. "Maybe. Just for a little while."

"And my kindness towards you didn't tip you off in any way?" 

Jon stayed quiet for a while. When he finally spoke again, his voice was hesitant and his cheeks were on fire. "Actually, that was partly why I suspected you."

Martin started laughing. 

"Don't laugh!" Jon looked up to scowl at him, suppressing a smile. 

"Sorry, sorry, it's just that..." He grinned, staring down at his boyfriend, "considering how clever you are, it's astounding how _daft_ you can be sometimes."

"Oh, shut up." They pressed their foreheads together, both of them smiling. His boyfriend's soft smile was a blessing, the only comfort Jon had left during the end of the world. "I'm sorry. You must have been worried sick."

"Yeah, well, what's new?" Martin kissed Jon's forehead, staring at him lovingly. "You weren't well."

"That doesn't excuse the way I treated you."

"No." Martin admitted after a small pause. "No, it doesn't. But you've already apologised to me, and I've already forgiven you."

Jon closed his eyes once more, his hand raised to stroke his boyfriend's cheek. "I don't think I deserve you, Martin."

"It doesn't matter what you think, because I'm not going anywhere either way." He bent down to kiss Jon's lips tenderly. "Should we be on our way?"

Jon pondered. "What's the rush? Time isn't really-"

"-a straight line anymore, yeah, I know." He tucked a strand of loose hair behind his boyfriend's ear. "Thank you, Jon." 

"Thank _you_ , Martin." 

They rested in the peaceful silence of the woods, and just for a few minutes, Jon felt truly at home.


End file.
